Shadows of the Sand
by Sempiternus
Summary: -Oneshot. Pre manga. Kankuro centric.- Gaara wasn't the only one who had changed.


**Shadows of the Sand**

By Sempiternus

* * *

Summary: One-shot. Kankuro-centric. Gaara wasn't the only one who had changed.

_Author's Note: The last paragraph of this – the longest short story I've written to date – just got stuck in my head one night, and it took me three months to form a backstory and be able to actually use it . . . and it sort of pushed me to my muse's end to write the entire story. Where it has been broken up is fragments I wrote over the three months time . . ._

_This is a story through Kankuro's eyes, what I believe he might have gone through the day Gaara killed Yashamaru. Gaara is six, Kankuro is about eight, and Temari would be about nine here. I took some liberties with Kishimoto Masashi-san's original storyline of Sunagakure, but not too much for this to have an alternate universe warning (I think.)_

_I hope you enjoy reading._

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_ nor its characters that are used in this fiction.  
I do, on the other hand, own Yoshiro and that Suna jonin . . .

* * *

Pulvis et umbra sumus.

We are dust and shadow.

– _Latin proverb_

* * *

The shuriken made a whizzing sound through the air, turning from its original horizontal position to vertical one before it ran with a _thud_ into the wooden target. Temari stood up straight again after watching, a gleam in her eyes at how the shuriken had landed in the center of the target board. I could practically_ feel _the waves of gloat radiating off of her body as she turned to me, silently demanding me to try and say she "sucks" again. I rolled my eyes and sighed, looking again at the target and silently wishing that it would just _fall_ over in order to knock that _gleam _out of her eyes. I despised it when she got like this.

Otou-sama had said – once again – that he was too busy to train me because, at that specific moment, he had been talking to Uncle Yashamaru about something or other. I think it involved Gaara, considering that it seems like that's_ all_ they talked about nowadays. Temari had been there at the time because she had made a bet with me that Otou-sama would be too busy and had walked with me from the house to where Otou-sama worked. I rolled my eyes once again and wondered why it was always _Temari_ that ended up teaching me all of the stuff that Otou-sama had time to teach_ her._ Our bet was that if Otou-sama said no, then she would teach me, as she thinks she's the "supreme teacher," even better than Otou-sama _and_ Uncle Yashamaru. She's not that good, though. She just _thinks_ she is because she had Otou-sama – and 'Kaa-san, too – teach her before Gaara was born.

I rolled my eyes once more and turned to face her. "Okay, Temari, this is gonna be easy. I could do it no sweat." Before she could start yelling at me for being a "stupid-head," as she liked to call me _affectionately,_ I picked one of the shuriken off the ground and held it between my fingers like she had done: Fingers bent, the index- and forefingers on the left, and the rest curled around the right edge, curve my arm over my body in an arch, and throw it, letting go when it is pointed at the target.

Smiling smugly, I watched the shuriken fly through the air directly at the target. I almost opened my mouth to say, "See, Temari, I _told_ you _anybody_ could do it," and laugh at her disbelief that I could learn something on the _first_ try, when my perfectly thrown shuriken veered off to the right of the target, smacking the very edge before falling onto the sand below. Disbelievingly, I stared at the black, dulled shuriken – not so dull that it couldn't carve itself into the target board, though – that was _supposed_ to show Temari that not only she and Gaara were good at something, Temari with her wind and Gaara with his sand. When Temari burst out laughing after a minute of silence, I clenched my fist and walked over to pick up the fallen shuriken, kicking at the sand as I went.

After I picked it up and turned back around to find Temari _still_ laughing like it was the most comical thing in the entire world, I treaded back over to the same spot and tried again, keeping my jaw clenched, and practically shaking. So _what_ if I couldn't do it on my first try? I bet she couldn't either when she was learning. So, I gripped the shuriken once again, and, closing my eyes for a second to take a breath, threw it at the target as hard as I could. Not wanting to see what happened, I closed my eyes again, using my ears to try and pick up the same "_thud"_ sound that Temari's shuriken had made.

"I told you it wasn't easy, Kankuro," Temari said after a minute of neither of us hearing anything. I could feel her eyes on me, watching what my reaction would be. I didn't like it when she watched me like this. It was like she was expecting something of me, and I didn't know _what._ She watched Gaara with the same eyes, too.

"Shut up, Temari," I shot out, opening my eyes to glare at her. "It's just the wind, that's all. It blew the shuriken off-course. It's not my fault." Gazing around for the shuriken I knew had fallen to the ground, I looked away from her amused way of watching me screw-up. I just needed a little practice, that's all. _Then_ I could show Otou-sama what I had accomplished, and _he_ would give me pointers, not Temari.

"Whatever, Kankuro. Let's just head back to the house. I'm tired of baby-sitting you," she replied, turning her back to me.

"_You're_ the one who wanted to come with me," I reminded her, pulling her shuriken out of the wooden target board after finding mine underneath. "Why do you want to go back home, anyway? It's just gonna be you, me, and Gaara alone as usual."

"No, I think Uncle Yashamaru said he was coming over later. But don't tell Gaara that; Uncle Yashamaru said he wanted it to be a surprise or something," she replied, her tone distracted, like she thought I should already know this and not be questioning her.

I snorted. "Like I would tell Gaara anything." I mean, really, Gaara was okay, when he wasn't pissed about something, but being the brother of a "_bakémono_" – as the villagers _affectionately_ called him – didn't really help me much, even though I _can_ take care of myself. I think that even Temari was scared of him, not that she would ever admit that. She's supposed to be fearless, according to her.

She didn't reply to my retort; instead, Temari turning around sharply, like I said something I shouldn't have that made her upset. Whatever, I didn't care. And I _didn't_ need to go home with her to Gaara and his _constant_ staring out the window – or at 'Kaa-san's photograph – for _hours_ on end, or messing around with the puppet I was trying to make with the help of Shin-sensei.

Shin-sensei is one of Otou-sama's apprentices – or something like that, I think – and Otou-sama once said that he used puppets to attack with. At first, when Otou-sama had mentioned it to us – Temari and I – in passing, we didn't believe it because who would use something like an inanimate _puppet_ to attack? It sounded like another story that Otou-sama had made up. Then, however, when I had been walking to Otou-sama's workplace to ask a favor of him, I saw Shin-sensei with blue chakra lines coming out of his hands and his puppet moving with those lines, squeezing the life out of a troublemaker. I didn't know if Shin-sensei knew that I had been watching, or whether he was supposed to be doing that in the _first_ place, but after I had admired – it _was_ cool to see a puppet come to life, after all – and ran away, the next time he'd noticed me, he had grinned and said he would teach me how to make a puppet like his. I knew enough from Otou-sama's dealings that Shin-sensei meant for me not to say anything. I wasn't going to all the same, but now I had my own personal _sensei_, even if nobody else knew. I had been working on my puppet for a while now, and Shin-sensei told me that after I completed it, we would work on my chakra control and how to connect my chakra to the puppet.

"Are you coming or not, Kankuro?" Temari yelled, her shuriken already packed up.

"I don't have to follow you _everywhere,_ Temari," I replied. "I'm going to stay out here and practice some more."

"Uncle Yashamaru said that _you,_ specifically, had to be back before the sun went down, Kankuro," she said testily, and I saw her face start to contort into the expression that means she's pissed.

I was about to respond with a comment that would have egged her on, but I noticed someone behind her. So instead, I grinned and said, "Okay, okay, ugly. Just let me do something first," rolling my eyes when I looked in her direction, then beaming again at the oblivious person behind her.

"What?" she asked, eyebrows creasing as her expression changed. I just smirked wider and paced slowly over to her, then behind her, to the person who had gotten Gaara so _enraged_ the other day. It was payback time. I was going to show him what it felt like to have to live in a house with Gaara and his sand when he was pissed and chaotic at the same time.

"Wakahisa Yoshiro," I stated, not waiting for the brat to turn around before I snatched up his right leg in one swift movement and held him upside-down. The cocky boy crossed his arms and glared at me, looking like a baboon with his fuzzy black hair and large ears.

"Whad'do you want, shit-face?" he asked in a voice that sounded like he had influenza or something.

I grinned. This was going to be fun. I was about to respond to the punk when Temari intervened.

"Kankuro, what're you doing? Leave the little brat alone; let's just go."

I looked at her disbelievingly. How could she just forgive and forget what this little idiot said to Gaara? "C'mon, Temari, stop being so _heroic._ 'Sides, the_ little brat_ deserves it, ne?" Not bothering to wait for an answer, I turned back to Yoshiro. "Isn't that right, _gaki_-_chan?_ Go ahead and tell _me_ what you said to Gaara yesterday."

"Nothin' special, shit-face. Just told the little _bakémono_ where he _really_ belongs," Yoshiro retorted, albeit weakly, still hanging upside down, blood rushing to his face.

"You should really learn to respect your elders, gaki-chan._ 'Specially_ when they have direct connections to the Kazekage. Who _knows_ what kinda trouble you could get in."

Yoshiro made a face that made him look like a monkey sucking on a banana. Then he spit out, "Please, your entire family is full of filthy traitors. I wouldn't be surprised if you were half-mongrels. You sure act like them, shit-face."

"What the hell did you say, asshole?" I was pissed by now. This little devil had just insulted our entire family!

"You heard me, you _monster."_

That did it. I was losing _my_ game to this little seven-year-old! I dropped him on his head and, ignoring his _"ouch!,"_ began to form the signs to a basic chakra-controlled _jutsu_ Shin-sensei had recently taught me. I was just about to form the last seal when Temari practically toppled me over when she pushed my on right shoulder.

_"What?"_ I yelled, furious that she let this chance go by. I could've shown her up for the shuriken training! And now Yoshiro was running away . . . running like the little coward he was. _There,_ I thought, _that'll teach him not to mess with us._

"_Kankuro,"_ Temari whispered frantically, pointing to something behind me. I turned around and immediately discovered why she was acting so strange. There, on the sand by the three targets, Gaara stood with his stuffed bear he carried around when he was alone. I froze for a second before approaching him.

"G-Gaara. What're you doing here?"

He looked at me for a second with his sea-green eyes before his face contorted into a half-smile. I wasn't sure what he was doing, so I backed up a step. Then, Gaara said, in the small voice he used when he spoke, which was rare in itself, "Um . . . thanks, Kankuro-nii," and widened his mouth even more. I wasn't sure what he was talking about and didn't know how to make him stop – and didn't know if I really _wanted_ him to – making that little half-smile that I had seen him wear only while he was with Uncle Yashamaru, so there was complete silence. I don't think even _Temari_ was sure what was going on, considering she was practically _gawking_ at Gaara like she hadn't ever seen him do anything but scowl.

Gaara's head began to lower when he realized that I didn't say anything back – and probably wasn't going to – and his face set itself back into a straight line, edges sagging just a little bit. I held my breath, waiting for what he would do next. I didn't want him to be pissed, because then he would most likely _attack_ us like he had other people who had just ignored him 'cause they didn't know what to say. But it was worse if he felt like crying or something, because then the sand came out by itself.

So, I held my breath and waited, feeling the tension shift in Temari's body as she began to back up to stand very close to my right side. Then, she pushed her elbow subtly into my side. I almost cried "ouch!" and retaliated until I realized what she wanted me to do. Gathering my courage, I hoped my mouth wouldn't say the wrong thing like it usually did.

"N-no problem, Gaara," I stuttered out, "i-it was really, uh, no big deal . . ."

Gaara just looked at me with his forehead scrunched together and eyes that looked drier than normal. Then, he turned and started to tread back to wherever he had come from, his head slightly bent forward and shoulders bent. When he had disappeared from view, I let out a sigh of relief and smacked my right hand onto my forehead.

"For the love of Christ . . . for a second there, I thought he was gonna blow," I remarked in relief to myself.

"_Tch,"_ Temari snorted in reply, "you were as scared as Yoshiro."

"Like you weren't, ugly? You were practically _shaking_, ready to bolt after the little coward."

Temari glared, but it wasn't as vicious as it usually was – she didn't say anything else _or_ keep her eyes on mine, not blinking, like she normally would do. Instead, she shrugged and turned her back towards the shuriken posts, preparing to go home. I still didn't want to, but thought that it wouldn't be good to stay out here if Gaara was going to. Who _knows_ what was going on in his head? So, making sure my shuriken were securely fastened onto my back-pocket pouch, I walked in step next to Temari, neither of us saying anything for the rest of the way home.

* * *

Uncle Yashamaru was sitting crossed-legged on the floor near the center table drinking tea when we walked into the house's main room, immediately removing our sandals and closing the shoji, careful not to let any extra sand on the tatami mats. Otou-sama gets wrathful if there is _any_ visible sand at all in the house, so we're always careful not to track any inside, since we never know when Otou-sama would come home. When he did, it was usually while we were sleeping – or Temari and I were sleeping, since Gaara never sleeps. I suppose he used that time to train Gaara without the extra distractions of having us around, but I wasn't sure because, unlike Gaara, I couldn't function well without sleep. The same goes for Temari, too, 'cause she's never told me what happens when Otou-sama comes home, and she would have if it were important.

After saying a polite_ "Evening"_ to Uncle Yashamaru and bowing quickly, Temari went down the hallway to her room, not giving either of us a glance back. I looked at Uncle Yashamaru, and then shrugged when he stared at me questionably. I never knew what Temari did in her room, and I really didn't care. It didn't affect me, so I had no right to know. I then sighed, annoyed at the day, and sat down at the table across from Uncle Yashamaru. He didn't say anything, but I could see a faint smile when he brought his tea cup up to sip.

"What's up, Uncle Yashamaru?" I asked, a little suspicious of his smirk.

"Forgive me, Kankuro-sama. I'm just pleased to see you is all. Don't get so hot-headed."

"_Tch, _whatever. You should say that to Temari. She didn't even let me stay for more shuriken practice after she was finished with hers. . . . That reminds me, Uncle Yashamaru, what'd you want me home for? And so early, too?"

Uncle Yashamaru smirked discreetly again behind his almost-empty tea cup before straightening his face and putting the cup down. "I hear that you've been seeing Shin-dono recently, Kankuro-sama. I wanted to speak to you about that."

My face went slack and I felt blood rushing from it. How did he find out? Shin-sensei said that we were doing good at our attempts to keep the meetings a secret, as nobody had mentioned anything to him. So how did Uncle Yashamaru find out? "I don't know what you're talking about, Uncle Yashamaru. I only see Shin-sen – er, Shin-san – when I visit Otou-sama sometimes, that's it."

"That's not what I've been hearing, Kankuro-sama. . . . But I'm not one to listen to crazy rumors anyway. Still, I've been curious for a while about the puppet that you've been stringing together in your room. Don't get me wrong, it's excellent that you've taken an interest in a specific shinobi art, but puppet-controllers are rare – it takes a _lot _of practice _and_ someone experienced – like Shin-dono – to teach _Kugutsu no Jutsu_. I'm just wondering who you have in mind to teach you chakra control for _Kugutsu no Jutsu_ when you've completed construction."

"I can teach myself, Uncle Yashamaru. No problem." He smiled again, this time outwardly, before clearing his throat and standing up.

"I'm sure you can, Kankuro-sama. But just as a precaution, be wary of Shin-dono. I don't think you would want to ask him for assistance in this. Okay?"

I bit my lip before answering. "Okay, Uncle Yashamaru. I'll be careful."

"Good, good. Now, I'm off to see Kazekage-sama. I'll be back later, so if Gaara-sama gets home before I do, would you please relay that to him?" I nodded, and he smiled once more, smoothing his clothes then walking towards the shoji door. I wondered why he didn't want us to tell Gaara _before_ that he was home but now he did.

"And just one more thing, Kankuro-sama," he turned back around and looked at me with no hint of light in his eyes, which meant that he was no longer to be taken lightly, "be careful of who you bully. There could be some trouble if you mess with the wrong kids." I didn't know what he meant by that, since I had always done as I pleased, but he seemed to really be serious about this, so I nodded, trying to make my face look as grave as his. After I did, he gently smiled, making the air feel lighter again – I hadn't felt it get heavy, though – and slid the shoji open, walking out before turning round and shutting it securely, ensuring no sand got into the main room.

After he was gone I sighed and looked at his empty tea cup left on the bare table. I was still confused by the conversation and didn't know _what_ to think about his warnings of watching out for both Shin-sensei _and_ little brats, but I decided it probably didn't matter too much. Uncle Yashamaru was usually too busy caring for Gaara to pay attention to anyone else, anyway. In fact, this was probably one of the few times he had actually taken the _time_ away from both Gaara _and_ Otou-sama to speak directly to me. But that didn't matter.

I shook my head and started to stand, looking at the clock. It was time to meet Shin-sensei – and this time I was going to be _exceedingly_ wary of watchful eyes. I didn't want any trouble from either Uncle Yashamaru or Otou-sama.

Before I left, I relayed to Temari what Uncle Yashamaru had told me to pass on to Gaara. She didn't look well when she slid open the shoji leading to her room, but her face was probably just pale from all of the training we did today. She was a girl, so she got worn out more quickly than I did. After I told her, I slid my sandals on and tightened my clothes around my body in preparation for the sand that blew incessantly outside.

* * *

Shin-sensei wasn't waiting by our customary meeting place – behind one of the local businesses called "Hajime Weaponry" – when I arrived. We always met there because Hajime-san, who owned the shop, was a friend or acquaintance – I never could recall which Shin-sensei specifically called him – of Shin-sensei's, and therefore wouldn't rat out our meetings to anybody who asked. It was about forty minutes past the time we usually meet by the time Shin-sensei showed up. That was peculiar because, first off, I was a bit late today, and second, because Shin-sensei was _always_ punctual. That was the first sign I had of something going wrong.

The second was, when Shin-sensei finally did show up, he didn't have his puppet, Hiruko, with him. Shin-sensei always brought Hiruko for demonstrations and such; even when we were only going to be working on chakra-control he brought Hiruko. I suppose it was also for some sort of security reason – in case anybody saw us – but still, it was curious that he hadn't brought it.

When he finally walked up to where I was sitting, idly drawing my name in the sand, he said, "Sorry 'bout this, Kankuro-sama, but we will not be able to do our regular training practice today."

I immediately stood up straight and glared at him, surprised. "Why not? I've been waiting here for forty minutes! Why're you so late, anyway?"

He looked behind him like he felt another's presence before answering, "Ah . . . as I said, Kankuro-sama, I apologize for this inconvenience. . . . Perhaps we can meet another time, all right? I'll even –"

"Why another time, Shin-sensei? What's going on?"

Shin-sensei looked behind him one more time before briskly standing up straighter and beginning to hastily walk away. "Another time, okay, Kankuro-sama? I promise."

"But . . . Shin-sensei!" I yelled, desperate to keep him here. This was the _only_ time I could do_ real_ training practice and he was the _only_ person who taught me anything! Why was he so eager to leave? Shin-sensei stopped when I shouted and glanced back at me, his eyes in downcast.

"Ah . . . perhaps, Kankuro-sama, you shouldn't call me that anymore. After all, it will be suspicious to anybody who hears, and we don't want that, do we?"

My mouth hung open at that statement. I didn't understand. He was my _sensei;_ how could I _not_ acknowledge that? _"Come on,_ Shin-sensei, _nobody_ knows we're meeting here. I mean, sure, Uncle Yashamaru was a _little_ suspicious when he brought it up, but I think he was just toying with me, and I didn't tell him anything anyway! I just want to train today. I mean, Temari took me out to shuriken practice, but that didn't help any. She's not a good sensei like you! And then, when I met up with Wakahisa Yoshiro, he ran away before I could punish him for messing with Gaara! And then, Shin-sensei, Gaara _himself_ show up, and, man, you _know_ what that is like! So, c'mon, I _need_ this training! I haven't been able to do anything productive all day!"

Shin-sensei had stopped walking away by now and was staring back at me like he wanted to eat me or something. Seriously, his eyes were lowered so far and he was glowering so intensely at me that his eyes could've been closed._ "What_ did you say, Kankuro-sama?"

"About what, Shin-sensei? What's'a matter?" I asked in a low voice, a little frightened, not that I would ever admit that to a soul.

He turned his body completely around to face me, radiating pure _revulsion_ towards me. I wanted to duck into a more public place by the way he was staring at me. I _really_ didn't want to get eaten by this man. "_What_ did you do to Yoshiro-sama?"

I blanched. What the hell? Why is he looking at me like that? "I, uh, you know . . . he had made Gaara pissed so I, uh . . . taught him a lesson. Well, sorta, because he ran away before I could finish. . . . But, uh. . . . Um . . . Shin-sensei?" He had begun to walk towards me slowly, and I felt my body back up to the edge of a rotten, wood fence behind the store as a sort of defense mechanism or something.

"You know, Kankuro-_sama,_ I'm doing you a _huge_ favor by meeting you here every week. Do you know how many _questions_ I receive from everybody working under the Kazekage? They always ask, 'Where're you going, Shin-san?' and I have to tell them, 'Just a walk, don't worry,' and smile like an _imbecile. _Do you know how _annoying_ that gets?"

". . . Shin-sensei, I don't understand. What's wrong?"

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Shin-sensei, whilst in the middle of his slow march towards me, suddenly raised his fist and slammed it into the wall of Hajime Weaponry, leaving a good-sized dent in the side, all while keeping his eyes fixated on mine. I felt my eyes get wider and I _wished_ I had listened to Uncle Yashamaru, even though I still didn't know what was _wrong_ with Shin-sensei. I didn't know what I had done this time at _all._ "I told you not to call me that, you fucking_ half-breed!"_

That shocked me. Never mind Yoshiro insulting my family, but now even Shin-sensei was. What the hell was wrong with _us _that they could say these things? My father is even the _Kazekage_ for God's sake! Shin-sensei was breathing hard and resting his right hand – the one he punched the wall with – on his left cheek, sliding his fore-finger up and down the side of his face, his eyes closed when I lifted my eyes back up from the dent he had made. Finally, he opened both eyes slightly and _stared_ – not glaring this time, just staring with an expressionless face that was somehow even worse – at where I was standing with my back to the tall fence that was behind Hajime-san's store. He stared at me a _long_ time before shaking his head and turning to walk away once more, this time more calmly. I didn't _want_ to say anything, in fear of setting him off again, but I couldn't _help_ myself.

"Shin-sensei . . . ?" I whispered, and then clamped my hand over my mouth. I _really_ didn't like it that my mouth has a mind of its own.

"Don't worry, Kankuro-sama," Shin-sensei said as if he was jubilant as usual, always trying to please, "I won't mess with this anymore – with_ you"_ – like I was some sort of filthy _toy_ that had gotten him into trouble and just wanted to _throw_ away so he could forget about it; about _me._ "Take this as a lesson, though: Don't mess with kids like Yoshiro or any of his friends. You'll get into a _lot_ of situations that you will _not_ enjoy. That's the last lesson I'll teach you. Sorry it wasn't about _puppets," _he spit the last word out as if it were contaminated.

"But . . . Shin-sen – uh, I mean Shin-sama – what _about_ my puppet? And the _Kugutsu no Jutsu_ you were supposed to teach me?"

He chuckled; it sounded empty. He really _was_ through with me. "Forget it, Kankuro-_sama._ You never had any talent to _begin_ with. I just felt _sorry_ for you kids, that's why I taught you. But never mind that; just find something else to do. I'm sure the other _monkeys_ of your father would just _love_ to teach _you."_ He laughed falsely again and raised his hand in parting before turning the corner onto the barren street.

I stood there for a long while before gathering up my guts up where they had puddled at my feet. So _what_ if Shin-_san_ didn't want to teach me anymore? I was _still_ going to figure out how to use a puppet, _even_ if I had to teach _myself._ I could do it, no problem. I didn't _need_ anybody to teach me. 'Specially someone like Iwakura _Shin._

* * *

The wind was blowing the sand harder than usual. Little pebbles were flown upward by the harshly blasting zephyr, and they stung my face whenever it blew from any direction. That _annoyed_ me because I wasn't particularly in the _mood_ to find that one specific position where I wouldn't get stung by its wrath. In Sunagakure, everybody knows that there is always one spot, one _angle,_ that you walk at to keep the sand – which was almost constantly blowing at some speed – from stinging your body through your clothes (when you didn't want to expend chakra on a certain jutsu.) _And_ keeping it from stinging your face, which was more troublesome than it hitting your body because it just _burned_ like hell on your skin.

After a while of playing tag with the severe winds, I got tired of just meandering about and decided to head home. After all, if I stayed out on the streets too late at night, some drunks or people just looking for some trouble would start messing with me, and I didn't want to _deal_ with that right now. So, I turned right at the crossroad with four shops on each corner, each the same design as everything else in Sunagakure – small, round windows with no specific markings whatsoever marring the outside, only a different sign on top proclaiming the store's name – and walked close to the buildings that were on my left, so that I could stay in the shadows and not be targeted.

As I was walking, I felt my mind wander a bit; I knew the way around this village by heart and didn't really need to pay attention to where I was walking. I only needed to watch the other passersby who I would deem dangerous or not by just looking at and decide whether to avoid them by taking a longer route around or by just walking past swiftly.

My mind wanted to drift back to the incident with Shin-san but I wouldn't let it. I didn't _want_ to think about _why_ he tossed me aside like he was in no liability with me. I mean, I could still recount to Otou-sama what I saw that day, even though it happened so long ago that I wasn't sure if people even _remembered_ the person who was killed. Besides, it was a troublemaker – some no-face that probably couldn't be a shinobi but still wanted to make a name for himself. Taking that into consideration, I doubt that Otou-sama would really _care_ whether or not the person was killed and would most likely just _grunt_ in response, not even glancing at me through those screened shoji doors that the Kazekage sat behind, always wary of assassination attempts and enemies who would try to sneak in.

The Kazekage hadn't always sat behind those shoji doors. I remember overhearing some old hags talking about the olden days before the Great Shinobi War, and how the Sandaime Kazekage was _open_ about having people visit him, would sit behind a great desk and let people actually see his _face_ when they spoke to him. But then, when war broke out and the Sandaime was killed by traitors acting as Suna-nin and Otou-sama became the Yondaime Kazekage, that all changed. I don't have all the details, because none of us were born when Otou-sama became Yondaime. However, I heard that he built the thin walls first as a precaution, because he was young and didn't want the Suna people left without a Kazekage twice in their generation.

Soon, however, as the war progressed and Otou-sama realized that Kaze no Kuni was losing, he became more wary of traitors within his own office and shinobi who were ready to risk everything – even killing their Kazekage – in order to win – or really just _stop_ the war with so many being killed in combat – due to the fact that Otou-sama wouldn't relent to a peace treaty even after four years. Because of this mistrust among the leaders of Sunagakure and Otou-sama's constant fear of being betrayed, he built the shoji doors within his office, making it so there was wood that kunai couldn't pierce through laying horizontal across the width of both shoji, blocking his face and body from all possible attacks. He only let two of his most trusted advisors who weren't even _allowed_ to communicate with those outside of Otou-sama's small circle of shinobi he _knew_ he could rely upon and not be deceived by inside of the small room.

When the war ended after six years – when the Daimyo of Kaze no Kuni practically _forced_ Otou-sama to sign a peace treaty with Konohagakure, thus ending the Great Shinobi War – I heard the old hags talking about how Otou-sama _still_ wouldn't let anybody even see his face as he stayed behind those shoji doors all the time. They say that he had lost all trust in the Daimyo and his own people and became a different person than the one who had built those walls to protect himself and his people, a perfectly reasonable thing to do at the time. The old hags said he became colder and his personality turned ice-like. Even when he was wed to 'Kaa-san a few years after the war in a prearranged ceremony, he didn't change at all. When Temari was born not long after the ceremony, however, he relented a little bit in his paranoia, walking around with only a small guard of his top shinobi. Things looked like they were getting better then, though they say he still had a bitter look in his eyes.

When Gaara was born and 'Kaa-san died in childbirth – as they told me afterwards – Otou-sama became reverent of the baby, pushing aside his duties in order to train Gaara. The old hags mentioned that he thought this was his chance to redeem Sunagakure from the meek position it had fallen to in the shinobi lands. They even said that the peace treaty made it so that only a few potential Suna-nin could become Genin each year, and even _less_ were permitted to _try_ and pass the Chuunin Exam. Otou-sama thought that Gaara and his "special abilities" could put Sunagakure back on the map by showing the other Great Four Nations that we performed missions fast and efficiently. Gaara was the trump card that would bring Sunagakure allegiance and reverence. Otou-sama even said that one day Gaara might be able to become _Kazekage,_ he was so strong.

He said that in conversation with Uncle Yashamaru when Gaara was only three. I had overheard because, back then, Otou-sama was home a lot, so I wanted to be around him. When he had mentioned that Gaara might potentially be his successor, I was confused because I thought that the first born son – which would be me, in this case – is the father's successor. But I was a little punk at that time and didn't understand yet that Gaara had a _monster_ living inside of him. I just thought that the sand was part of the jutsu Otou-sama took the time to teach him, making him even more powerful, Gaara being the avenger of the village and all.

I didn't understand that Otou-sama had stopped thinking of me as a skilled son and instead just pushed me aside as a burden – a son who, _while_ not being as strong as Gaara, looked _nothing_ like his deceased wife and too much like himself, a person who had been dishonored by his own _country_. I only thought at the time that it was so _awesome_ that Otou-sama was finally sleeping at home and that he would sometimes look me _right_ in the _eye_ when I entered the room. I was a stupid little kid, always acting like Wakahisa Yoshiro – like a yellow-faced _coward._

I got pushed out of these thoughts when a man stepped right in my path. I suppose I was more ignorant of my surroundings than I should have been – this guy looked like someone I should've taken a longer route around to avoid. He had a hitai-ate with the Suna symbol sketched on it, and hanging down from the headband – covering the entire right side of his face – was an off-white colored cloth that looked ragged. His mouth was covered with cloth of the same color that had been tied around to the back of his head. He was wearing shinobi sandals and black, lightweight pants. A jonin vest was on his torso, and his undershirt had strange patterns on it, like they were trying to symbolize a certain prophecy but got interrupted by the vest. It all just looked like a jumbled mess to me, with only the colors of copper-red and yellow-white visible.

I jumped when he crossed his arms and felt stupid because I'd just been staring at him. I got control of myself right away, though, and crossed my arms too, glaring up at him, waiting to see if he would say anything. When I did that his mouth perked up in an exaggerated smirk and his one eye looked down at me with amusement and contempt shining through dark-brown irises.

"You have something to say, little man?" he asked, his voice deep and having an echoing sound to it.

"Nope," I replied, lowering my eyelids even more so that my glare would have more piercing effect. That just made his mouth widen even more.

"You sure, little man? The way you're looking at me, I think you do."

"I do _not."_ I shook my head to add effect. I just wanted to get out of this alive, but I wasn't about to show _this_ guy any fear. I had _enough_ trouble without being labeled a weakling by the villagers. Then Otou-sama would _really_ be disgusted with me. And probably ashamed, too – no _wonder_ he didn't think that I was good enough to even _potentially_ become a Kazekage. I was too much of _scaredy-cat_ who lacked too much_ skill._

"Mmm . . . really now. . . . Well, I do know _someone_ who has something to say to you. It's real important, little man, so you'd _best_ come with me." He didn't say it like I had any choice. I weighed my options, which were to either get killed by this bastard or talk my way out of whatever mess I had gotten myself into again without knowing it. I took the second option; this guy was about five feet taller than me, after all.

After that day, I never did completely trust jonin shinobi again.

* * *

I didn't feel too good when I limped home that night. The bruises and soon-to-be-scars hurt worse than hell. My right leg seemed to not want to move at all, so I had to drag it along, barely able to pick the _stupid_ thing up. I _knew_ that Uncle Yashamaru and Temari would probably be curious what had happened, but I wasn't going to tell them. What goddamn _good_ would come from it besides making me look _pathetic?_ The little punks and their older lackeys they had wrapped around their fingers because of their parents' status wouldn't have any punishment inflicted upon them since Otou-sama – who practically dealt out all the punishment in Sunagakure – would just see it as me being a _weakling_ like always. I wasn't going to tell, and I didn't care _what_ conclusions Uncle Yashamaru came up with to tell Otou-sama, and I didn't _care_ anymore what they thought about me or Gaara or even Temari – we were fine without them, anyway.

A rumbling from a short distance away had my head jerking up and my ears on full alert, blood pounding and pounding against the back of my head where it had been smashed into a building wall. The blood was trying to warn me that there might be another attack and was preparing itself for the ambush. I must've looked like a stupid little frightened _puppy_ on the street, my ears practically _perked_ up and head tilted towards the side to hear possible footsteps running to add to my humiliation.

Instead, I heard a distant roar that sounded like it wasn't human – it was like some monster trying to escape from _Jigoku –_ a place worse than Hell – or something. Then, on top of a building a few paces ahead of where I was standing, sand began to swirl up around from a point on the roof, swirling around higher and higher until it looked like lightening that was coming up out of the ground instead of the blackened sky. I shivered because even though I was inadequate in the shinobi art – as I had just been reminded of – I could nevertheless _feel_ this chakra it was so immense. And the _feeling_ of it made my blood turn cold and my hands began to shake.

If it were a color, this chakra would be blood-red, almost black, and it was ominously making the wind taste like_ blood._ If I listened hard enough, I could _just_ hear someone screaming within the whirlwind of sand. It was constant and sounded like the person shrieking was in pain. I wondered who it was screaming; something inside me felt like I _should_ know – that it was somebody _did_ I know. But I couldn't place exactly who, since who controls sand except –

_Gaara!_ I felt my heart begin to beat even harder in my chest as it thumped blood throughout my body, pounding against my numerous wounds. Somebody was trying to hurt Gaara, just like always. They always, always, always, _always_ kept on trying to get rid of us. All of us. Even Temari, because I've seen little brats her age tease her when we were both younger – I used to follow Temari everywhere, just for something to do, so I know – and neither of us knew how to avoid the little assholes yet.

By now, both of us had figured it out, and if some little punk came up by chance, we would both quickly jump up onto some low building or into some alleyway. Then, we would leap back down onto the street when they'd passed. Temari and I had both silently agreed to do this one day when a whole _group_ of twerps came up to us and started in on our family. I mean, it was practically the entire_ village_ going at us, and we never really knew why. I suppose it was because we were the Kazekage's kids, so that gave them reason to single us out because we had more power than them in the long run – and more connections – so it was more likely that we would become full-fledged shinobi than them. But I really didn't know for sure.

All of a sudden, I just felt this surge of rage burst throughout my body coming from my stomach and swirling around and around inside of me. I didn't know what the anger was directed towards – 'cause I was practically _alone_ on the street – but it just _shot_ up through my body like someone had jabbed a kunai into my body that made my insides all covered with warm, racing blood. It felt like I was suffocating or something, and it got really hard to breath all of a sudden. I didn't know if it was due to the wind that was so harsh by now that I couldn't see two feet ahead of me – except for the swirling sand, because of its mass and abnormal circulation – and hurt when it pricked into my wounds that were sort of open to the air. I just felt like I was going to die right there and then, but I didn't _want_ to die. It was the same feeling I got when Shin-san had glared at me and I thought he was going to eat me or something.

I panicked for a second and I still felt my blood boiling inside of me and I didn't know how to stop that problem, so I just sat down on the ground, my legs shaking so bad that I could hardly stand. I just didn't understand _why_ the villagers hated my family so much. And I didn't _want_ to know _why_ Gaara was able to control sand to such a degree or _why_ I had a bad feeling deep within my rage – it was beneath it, so I didn't feel it as keenly – that Gaara was _killing_ whoever had wronged him. But that in itself didn't make me feel guilty, it was the part that Gaara _had_ to kill someone because the villagers just wouldn't leave him _alone_ with their constant _mocking._

I shut my eyes to try and take control of my breathing; it was getting harder and harder to breath through my nose and I couldn't through my mouth because of the sand. So I just sat there with my eyes closed and concentrated on keeping my breath going in and out in and out in and out until I couldn't remember anything anymore. It just went blank.

* * *

Uncle Yashamaru never came back to the house after that night. Temari said after I woke up in my bed, bandaged and everything, that somebody she didn't know had dropped me off right in front of the door, not bothering to stick around to see if I was okay. She said that Otou-sama had come by once – just once – to look in on me, had stood there at my door for only a _second_ while I was asleep, and then, without saying anything, turned back round and walked back to his office, which was practically his home now.

Gaara never smiled anymore. Not even a little bit like he used to when somebody paid even a trivial bit of attention to him. Instead, he would shut himself up in his room, or out on top of some building, just watching the sky day in and day out. Gaara had also lost the light in his eyes that would spark up when he thought someone was being kind to him, like that time at the shuriken posts before I had screwed everything up like usual, there was that light in his eyes, matching the creepiness of his half-smile.

He would also sometimes go a little berserk. For instance, one time a bunch of little punks began to mess with him when he was on top of Hajime Weaponry – I knew because I was watching from the other side of the street than the brats – calling and hooting up to Gaara, who was just minding his own business, staring at the twilit-sky of that day like always – and they all ended up with crushed bones one way or another – whether it was an arm, a leg, or even cracked ribs, they were all broken by Gaara, who had just been minding his own business, so, really, it was their fault.

I sometimes had nightmares about that night, too. The night that Temari said that the faceless guy had just dropped me by the front door. The first night I had the nightmare, I woke up with a scream almost escaping my mouth and that _feeling_ – of rage and confusion and guilt – all swirling around in my body again. In my phantasm, I had watched the entire scene with Gaara and his sand play out. In it, Uncle Yashamaru was killed by Gaara, which I knew couldn't – _wouldn't_ – be true, because Gaara didn't like _anybody_ more than Uncle Yashamaru, even if he didn't come around anymore after that night.

Gaara turned into a monster in my dream. Not a monster like the ones that legends hold, like a dragon or something, but he started to literally _sprout_ limbs over top his real legs and arms. Gaara's eyes looked crazy, all bloodshot and all, and he kept on holding his head and muttering, "Why, Yashamaru?"– it _couldn't_ have been Uncle Yashamaru, it just _couldn't_ have been – "Why would you?" and he was crying and stuff, holding the left side of his head like he was fighting something inside of it. When he let loose a cry that was louder than anything I had heard that night and pierced through my eardrum to put my mind into wakefulness, I felt my own scream try to escape.

I couldn't eat for a _week_ after I had that nightmare, and worse, it kept on coming sporadically. Some nights it didn't and I barely dreamt at all, and other nights it came in full force and I always awoke as Gaara screamed and the sand crushed Uncle Yashamaru and killed him. I was a little wary of Gaara after that, I think, but I don't believe it was really any different than how I had been treating him before, as strange as that sounds.

Two weeks after I awoke from my injuries and my wounds were almost all the way healed, Otou-sama came into my room for a second time. He slid the shoji door open almost silently – as silent as you can be with those doors – and turned around to stare at me. Finally, he said, "Iwakura Shin's – whose murderer has been confirmed as Akasuna no Sasori – assassinated body has been found on the outskirts of the village. His killer, who took all puppeteer materials from the victim's house, will be assassinated on the spot if found," and then he just left, shutting the shoji behind him slowly – almost at a leisurely pace – like he was _bored_ with having to tell me that information. But I didn't let my mind think about that and instead clenched my teeth.

So _what_ if Shin-san – or whatever the hell his name is – was now gone forever? And so _what_ if he disappeared just like Uncle Yashamaru apparently had, leaving Temari and Gaara and I alone as usual? We didn't _need_ to be taken care of, after all. I was already old enough to _almost_ be a Genin in Sunagakure – the age was eight – and so I was _supposed_ to be able to take _care_ of myself. Besides, I would have to kill other people someday, just we always hear in the stories the other older shinobi always tell us, commanding us to make sure to be as detached as possible and to not create a bond to anything because it'll also be killed or taken from you one day, so there was no point.

We had to paint over our emotions, our elders told us – like Gaara did, I saw, with the kanji word for "love" on his forehead, and like I was going to do someday – and make them separate from our mind. At any rate, I would teach _myself_ how to finish my puppet and make chakra strings come out of my hand. After all, I _was_ the Kazekage's son.

With this in mind, I turned to look out my small, oval window, watching the wind blow the sand across horizontally to the left. A few of the grains brushed up against the specially-made Kaze no Kuni glass and made a sort of _tick _sound. I decided that, after I was healed again and could go back to normal life, I wouldn't be a coward anymore. I wouldn't be like Yoshiro and run away when alone but come back with about a _thousand_ allies to gang up on _one_ person in the middle of the night. And I _wouldn't_ let myself be pushed around by Otou-sama or Uncle Yashamaru – even though he was probably dead – or Temari or Gaara – it might be kind of hard with him, though, since, with the way he is now, he'll most likely kill me in an instant – or _anybody._

I would be just _fine_ teaching myself _and_ training with Temari now that we had decided a couple of days ago that I should take the Genin test so that we could be placed on the same team. We didn't want any little brats holding us back, and we figured that the Kazekage could pull a few strings and get Gaara on our team, so that we could stick together. We would just crush _anybody_ who tried to mess with us when we were together. _Everybody_ would be afraid of us.

We were, after all, children of the Kazekage. That had to count for something, even if everybody hated us for it. All three of us would just keep going and become better than any of the other brats our age.

We would survive together.

終わり

* * *

Lo teypi mi gi nha-ing ku

A trustworthy person steals your heart

– _Bhutanese proverb_

* * *

**Japanese Terms**

Otou-sama お父様 — "Father"

'Kaa-san 母さん — "Mom"

bakémono 化け物 — "monster" (accent there to make sure the 'eh' in 'bah-keh' is pronounced...)

gaki ガキ — "kid; brat; punk" (saying gaki-chan ガキちゃん makes the sting just that much harsh, especially for a boy...)

Kazekage 風影 — "Shadow of the Sand" (Leader of the Sand Village)

shoji 障子 — sliding doors

Kugutsu no Jutsu 傀儡の術 — "Puppetry Technique"

Sunagakure 砂隠れ — "Hidden Village of the Sand"

Kaze no Kuni 風の国 — "Land of Wind"

Daimyo 大名 — "feudal lord"

hitai-ate 額当て — shinobi headband

* * *

Created 22 July 2006

Completed 28 October 2006

_(Revised for grammar, inconsistencies, and for kicks 31 December 2011)_


End file.
